There is a strong narrative and thematic throughline in director Jane Schoenbrun’s work. Their films explore how the media we consume also consumes us, while simultaneously telling stories about identity and sexuality that resonate with audiences—especially members of the LGBTQIA+ community—in unexpected ways. Their latest film, Teenage Sex and Death at Camp Miasma, is no exception. However, it marks a step in a new and exciting direction for Schoenbrun. Despite the buckets of blood in Camp Miasma, the film is not nearly as dark as their previous works. There is a surprising amount of levity and laughter coursing through its veins. In fact, the idea for Camp Miasma first arose when Schoenbrun’s partner suggested that their next film be something “gay and fun.” On that front, they certainly succeeded.

It’s been 12 years since Gregg Araki’s last film, White Bird in a Blizzard (2014), a work that felt only faintly recognizable as a Gregg Araki picture. I Want Your Sex not only serves as his first feature since then, but also marks a major return to form for the auteur. It’s refreshing to see a movie with Araki’s signature style on the big screen in 2026, and equally refreshing to see a film embrace horniness and sexuality with such unapologetic enthusiasm. It’s as if Gregg Araki heard the discourse about how Gen Z wants less sex in movies and TV and decided to push back. With I Want Your Sex, he seems to be shouting from the rooftops that there’s nothing wrong with being horny and that we need to make movies sexual again.

If you’ve ever watched Rick and Morty, Futurama, or pretty much anything on Adult Swim and found yourself thinking, “Wow, this is so zany and fun! But you know what would make it even better? If most of the characters were lesbians!” Emma Hough Hobbs and Leela Varghese have arrived to turn the queer, quirky animated film of your dreams into a reality with their directorial debut, Lesbian Space Princess.

There is a quote often attributed to the Greek philosopher Heraclitus that reads, “No man ever steps in the same river twice, for it is not the same river and he is not the same man.” With her directorial debut, Kristen Stewart channels that concept into cinema in more ways than one. The protagonist in The Chronology of Water, Lidia (Imogen Poots), is a swimmer who constantly finds herself submerged under water in both the literal and metaphorical sense. The water serves as both her refuge and a mirror, reflecting her memories, trauma, and continual transformation with every dive and stroke. At one moment, she observes, “I was a different person then,” a quiet acknowledgment that, like the river Heraclitus described, she is never the same woman from one moment to the next. The film itself mirrors this fluidity: every viewer will take away something different, and each viewing will reveal new currents and depths, subtle textures that may have gone unnoticed the first time, making the experience as mutable and alive as Lidia herself.

With her feature directorial debut, Fucktoys, Annapurna Sriram emerges on the scene like a fearless feminine counterpart to John Waters. If Mr. Waters is the Pope of Trash, Sriram stakes her claim as the Princess of Trash. The film itself is even set in the fictional neon-drenched dystopia of Trashtown, USA. The protagonist proclaims, “I love trash!” in a line that doubles as a mission statement for both the character and the filmmaker. Fucktoys is one of the most offbeat, original, and outlandish films of the year. Despite the film’s edginess and mature content, it maintains a playful, whimsical tone, like a hornier version of Pee-Wee’s Big Adventure.